Shattered Cinders
by Director Maliwan
Summary: Irene smirked, her visage reminiscent of a predator that just happened to stumble upon a particularly succulent piece of prey. "You look like you could use a friend." For the first time in a week, Natsu felt something besides rage. A new fire burned within him, stronger than any fire before.


**Yo, been awhile hasn't it? Working on Blonde General and Forced Damnation in a bit, so there's that. I've been dealing with a lot of shit, it's my last year of college, that's why the updates have been slow as all hell. I've recently found some gumption to write in between large assignments and this is what I came up with. The abandonment/exile story isn't a new concept by any stretch of the imagination, but I felt like writing and I figured I might put somewhat of a spin on it. This one is more for my own catharsis than anything else, if ya don't like the idea or are tired of the concept that's been done a great deal, this is the warning.**

 **It'll be a bit different I suppose. I'm experimenting with changes in character or realization of deep-seated desires that might lay under the surface of each character. That and I kinda want to test a hypothesis concerning the potential of Eileen's persona. Characters might end up shifting from their Canon counterparts, but I'll try to keep the basis there. If you feel like a particular character develops into a Gary Stu at some point you need not voice your concern; every character has flaws, every character fails at something or another.**

 **There is a pairing, I know what it is, suggestions will be noted, but ultimately the pairing is set in stone. Spoilers: Harem is out of the question.**

 **Anyway, without further ado:**

 **Shattered Cinders**

Fingers drummed a steady staccato upon a harsh wooden surface, the dull echo of flesh meeting arbor ringing out into the guildhall. Natsu gnashed his teeth, the silence permeating the guild hall screamed louder than even the shrillest of banshees. A heavy weight provided a dull ache to his tensed shoulders, the basis for this discomfort spawned, not from actual physical ailments, but the somber mood that had mired itself within the once rowdy establishment that was—is—the Fairy Tail headquarters.

" _Sniff_ ," Coal-black eyes darted to the only source of sound that had regularly broken the oppressive silence. Romeo once again rubbed the tears from his eyes; his shuddering and silent sobs a seeming mainstay in the guild these days. Natsu idly noted that no one moved to comfort him anymore, even the boys own father had moved on, drowning his self-loathing and pity with yet another bottle of ale.

Beside the purple-haired drunk sat his chain smoking friend, sunglasses covering sunken eyes but doing little to hide the other gaunt features of his depressed visage. He took another long drag from his self-rolled cigar, light wispy smoke rushing out of his nostrils, a far-cry from the usual heavily clouded puffs he once took joy in exhaling.

The acrid scent drifted over the guildhall, Natsu snorted, his enhanced senses having left him bereft of the ability to acclimate to such odors. Looks like another one was trying to drown himself in substance.

' **How pathetic.** '

The son of Igneel mentally winced at the intrusive thought. NO! That wasn't right! That wasn't how he thought of his guild-mates! They weren't pathetic…just sad.

' **Nothing wrong with being sad, but wallowing in self-pity like this. Fucking pitiful. S'been a month by now, right?** '

Natsu clenched his teeth, self-resentment creeping through him for such insensitive thoughts. Actually, that wasn't true, the thoughts weren't exactly the problem. Intrusive thoughts happened quite regularly to the dragonslayer-he'd learned long ago to tune out things that didn't matter. No, it wasn't the presence of the thoughts themselves, nor the new, gruff voice that had seemed to vocalize those thoughts, that caused turmoil and anxiety to flood the body of the pink-haired young man. It wasn't the presence of the thoughts, but rather the accuracy with which they reflected his own feelings.

He no longer felt the sting of loss, no longer felt the need to wallow in self-pity at the disappearance of his friends. Such sentiments were fine, he figured that Erza and the others at Tenrou wouldn't want them to mope around for long. The lack of empathy he felt for the rest of the guild, however—the utter disregard for their apparent need to further lament the unfortunate demise of their guildmates, the disdain for their self-exile from the world and subsequent debasement of their own guild—that lack of empathy scared the hell out of him.

Why? Why was it that now, a month following Acnologia's attack on Tenrou, Natsu felt complete and utter disgust for the hunched over form of Laki, crying into her beer? Why did his stomach boil in contempt whenever he caught sight of Max lazily denying potential job request? Why—God why—did he find Bisca's newfound dependence on Alzack for seemingly everything so utterly sickening that he had to physically restrain himself from verbally lashing out?

But most importantly…why did he feel nothing?

What the hell was this absence—this utter nothingness—that had taken hold of him? Where had his fire gone? What had happened to that burning passion that had pervaded every single aspect of his life? He could gauge a rough estimate of when it had disappeared from his life—about a week previous, following a lack of response to an impassioned speech he'd made to the somber guild-hall.

The blank eyes, the defeatist attitude that had taken hold of Fairy Tail…it was disheartening. No, that wasn't right? It didn't dishearten him…

It revolted him.

This…whatever this sad cesspool of somber, self-pity and drowning sorrows was…it evoked a very physical response from him. He drummed his fingers more harshly upon the wood, the fine surface singeing; four black divots formed under constant superheated duress.

" _Sniff"_

' **Yup, that'll do it.'**

Wood screeched as it scraped against itself; Natsu didn't bother pushing the chair back in. He strode toward the ever dwindling mission board, eyes hidden beneath bangs, refusing to deign to settle themselves upon the pitiful forms that laid about the hall.

Few gave him a second glance as he ripped a random piece of paper off of the wooden bounty-board. Only Macao, the new "guild master," rose to address him.

"Oi Natsu! Goin on a job ay? Good; rent's due in about a week anyway." The purple-flare mage managed to slur his way through his inquiry. "Bout time. You ha-urp-haven't gone on a mission in 'bout two days anyway. Chop-chop." Macao stumbled back onto his stool, the bottle of liquor nursed against his side.

Natsu largely ignored the drunkard, continuing his stalwart march out of the guildhall. It wasn't until he was halfway to the city-gate that he checked the description of the request.

' **Ooh, eliminating an Alpha Wyvern huh? They're supposed to be like mini-dragons right? Might have fun with this one!'**

'I guess.'

The journey was short—or at least, that's how Natsu perceived it. His mind bogged down in a quagmire of thoughts and feelings, attempting to put pieces together and make sense of his current attitude.

He'd grown increasingly irritable, that much was certain. His brief conversation with the local mayor, the quest giver, only further proved to annoy him. A baffling sentiment really. The portly older man had been nothing but nice, heaping praise on Natsu for accepting the quest and offering sympathy for the loss of the Tenrou group. Yet through it all—the genuine sympathy, the heartfelt praise, the exceptional treatment—the dragonslayer's palm bled. His nails dug deep welts into his hands; the impulse to beat the ever-loving shit out of this random, kind stranger— " **weakling** "—building within him.

Fortunately, he'd chosen to remain silent, giving a slight nod following the full briefing before trekking up the local mountain range in search of the wyvern nest.

An hour of trudging up a steadily increasing incline of mud and craggy peaks saw Natsu standing atop a snow-tipped summit. His gorgeous view of the surrounding land was obfuscated by a menagerie of flitting masses resembling large avian-reptiles. The ground around him was littered with several large carcasses, each former-beast burnt to a horrific degree; it was hard to distinguish what each had once been, all that was left being black scorch-silhouettes and brittle, blackened skeletons.

Crimson ichor dripped from the knuckles of the fire-dragonslayer; the conglomerate of wyvern and dragonslayer blood sizzling under the intense heat that had coated his hands. The red, life giving fluid was also present upon his handsome visage; a long maroon stream flowing from an undisclosed location hidden away under dirtied pink locks, sinking into the corners of his onyx orbs and causing an unpleasant (though largely ignored) stinging sensation.

'Why?'

One of the countless dragonoids descended to face the fire-mage head-on, a terrible scream breaking across the sky. Its maw opened to receive its prey—the puny humanoid that killed so many of its pack-members. Row upon row of razor sharp teeth bared, the promise of flesh and revenge bringing a sheen of saliva to bare. Slamming full-force into the mountain top, the female wyvern savored the presence of flesh that had entered its mouth, biting down with all its might it prepared for the rush that accompanied the spilling of humanoid blood…

Yet it felt no exaltation, no exhilaration, no joy, no sating of hunger. Actually, it only felt heat—INTENSE HEAT! Oh, Bahamut! How the heat began the slow arduous process of carving through the tendrils of muscle fiber in the beast's mouth!

Natsu sneered at the massive beast latched-on to right arm. Bending the appendage slightly, he focused a considerable heat to form around the entirety of the arm. His eyes narrowed as they met the confused glare of his prey. Fire spewed from the wyvern's mouth as the dragonslayer continued to superheat his flame-covered arm.

Fire continued to spill from the mouth of the beast. The fire-mage attached to the arm continued to glare directly into the eyes of the suffering beast, his uncompromising, unadulterated ire for the bastard animal rising with the heat of his flames.

'Why do I feel like this…?'

Despite his lack of comprehension for his rage, Natsu couldn't help but follow the instructions of his instincts, burning ever hotter as his unrestrained hatred for the beast before him spiraled further and further out of control. The first few beasts had incensed him, but it seemed as though the longer he fought, the more he felt contempt for the dragonkin. Contempt morphed into loathing with the first few carcasses surrounding him—failed challengers that offered no real contest or sport. Loathing soon turned to hatred before it began to boil over within the pit of his stomach.

' **Disgusting pretenders. False! PHONY! LIARS! YOU PROMISED A CHALLENGE! YOU PROMISED ME A CHANCE TO FEEL AGAIN!'**

Natsu's eyes bore into the damned winged-rat before him, the fire spewing from its mouth now a raging inferno, threatening to boil its very brains.

The wyvern could feel its mouth flesh boil under the duress of the unholy fires as it tried to dislodge the human's arm from its jaw. Flames curved past it's scaled lips, searing at its unprotected eye flesh.

' **Turn 'im to cinders.'**

A low growl escaped the flame dragonslayer's mouth, the gravel-like tone piercing through the resolve of the wyvern, forcing a break in its rabid attempts at removing the arm lodged in its mouth. The flames continued to spew forth from a large frantic maw, growing ever hotter, increasing in size and intensity until…

It stopped.

The storm of wyverns gazed curiously upon the scene, intrigued eyes slowly morphing into victorious grins. The flames had stopped, the little human must have run out of power, now Beta would tear him apart. Beta would—

" **AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"**

A flurry of wings beat sporadically, their owners clearly surprised by the caterwaul of unadulterated agony that Beta had produced. Two dozen sets of eyes grew wide at the sight before them; the dragonslayer's arm _burning_ through Beta—sliding through tough hide and scales like a superheated knife through lukewarm butter.

Obsidian bled into slitted crimson; twin burning orbs glared balefully into the eye of the wyvern hurricane, directed through a sea of wings upon a large singular form. Natsu grimaced; he ignored the downed Beta beside him, ignored the flesh and bone quickly turning to ash, ignored the dark sheen that had covered his right arm.

Damned if he didn't try and ignore the trill of satisfaction at the uncertainty that crept into the eyes of the large alpha. The pitiful creature hiding amidst his steadily decreasing horde. For a brief moment, another visage filled the place of the winged beast above; for the shortest of moments, a scaled snout and smoldering eyes was replaced by a sniffling purple-haired boy. His arm covering his leaking eyes, Romeo continued to shutter in place before Natsu's rage-filled eyes.

A sneer ripped its way onto the dragonslayer's face once more as disgust bled into loathing. Weakness…that kind of weakness wasn't welcome in his world, not anymore.

With a vicious hiss that steadily rose in volume to form a rippling growl, Natsu braced his legs, pouring unimaginable amounts of potential energy into the appendages. Baleful red rubies never left the large form of the alpha wyvern, never lost sight of the weakness—the cowardice. Growl transformed into thunderous roar; fangs bared, the predator pounced.

 **Unknown Location, Present Time**

Igneel idly noted the austere beauty of the light particles that floated into the abyss—precursors to his own ultimate fate. A serene calm had washed over his form despite the circumstances that now plagued him. This certainly wasn't how it was supposed to happen—the great King of Fire Dragons was meant to burn out in a blaze of everlasting glory, falling only to a beast of greater power.

The red wyrm snorted. Actually, that last bit might still be true; his death was technically caused by a being far stronger than even the fire-drake. Still, this calm, peaceful fading away…well it certainly wasn't his preferred method of exit, but perhaps it wasn't _so_ bad.

Gazing up into the dark expanse before him, Igneel couldn't help the grin that made its way onto his face, an image of young pink-haired child grinning like an idiot flitting before his tired eyes. Despite everything he'd done, the lives he'd destroyed, the hatred and malice he'd wrought upon the world of humanity…

"Take care of him for me…"

" **It's all I'm good for, isn't it?** "

Igneel snorted once more, his form beginning to fade far more quickly. "He's in a dangerous position right now…teetering over the edge of a very dangerous place."

Silence reigned for a moment, the previous statement settling upon both of their forms.

" **What do you want me to do then?"**

As he began to fade once and for all, the raw magical energy within Natsu overwhelming and expelling his own, Igneel frowned.

"Shove him in."

 **The Remains of Wyvern Peaks:**

Rain. That's what it was. It had taken him far too long to different between the life-giving gift from the heavens from the crimson ichor that he had bathed in. Both liquids felt the same to him…

Tasted the same too.

Natsu clutched his head, locks of pink hair piercing between sticky, red fingers. ' _The fuck is wrong with me?!_ ' He waited on baited breath for the anticipated rush of anxiety—the utter self-revulsion for his current state. He'd _enjoyed_ ripping the wyverns apart, found joy in _searing_ through scales and flesh of moderately intelligent beings with his strangely coal-black arm (which had yet to revert to its previous state). Oh, God and listening to their screams of agony, closing his eyes and imagining that it was that blue-haired faggot (1), Jellal, who's chest he'd had his arm lodged in. Oh…the thought of that particular mage gasping for life as he slowly _melted_ …it was damn near orgasmic.

Goddamnit, where was that fucking self-loathing!? Why? Why the fuck didn't he feel anything—anything but satisfaction?

' _What am I?'_

" **A predator."**

There is was, that damned voice again! The voice that had shown up out of the blue the day after he'd beaten Jellal. The voice that had whispered encouragement in his ear when he'd acted particularly savage in his fights; the voice that praised his own appraisal of the female form; the voice that had stoked the ire he felt for the remaining members of Fairy Tail.

' _Who—'_

"— **Doesn't matter. We got company."**

" _Wha—"_

"Well, hello there," a sultry, smooth tone broke the screaming silence, startling the pondering dragonslayer from his inner queries. Head turning slightly, Natsu found the source of the disturbance, his eyes widening at the sight.

Red was the first thing that dominated his vision, beautiful red-tresses that caused a stir of recognition to flit throughout his form. Before him stood the most magnificent specimen of feminine flesh he'd ever seen; onyx orbs trailed up and down supple curves—which themselves had been accented by a rather skimpy black number. Perfect, beautiful skin was marred only by a large scar upon an otherwise blemish-free navel. Long, stocking-clad legs drug the fire mage's eyesight upward, forcing his gaze to rake over perfect child-birthing hips; upwards, further, a bountiful chest barely lay concealed beneath a thin veneer of silk; even further still, a beautiful neck—Natsu felt the urge to sink his fangs into the side of that tantalizing throat; onyx met a fierce, intelligent, dark brown.

"Aren't you a handsome one." A succulent tongue traced over full, red-painted lips.

Natsu clutched at his core, a burning—raging—fire lighting at this woman's presence, stoked by her every word, fed by her every movement.

Irene smirked, her visage reminiscent of a predator that just happened to stumble upon a particularly succulent piece of prey.

"You look like you could use a friend."

For the first time in a week, Natsu felt something besides rage. A new fire burned within him, stronger than any fire before.

 **To be continued…**

 **That's about it for now I guess. Ending is a bit rushed, but sometimes less is more I guess. If you've got questions about the narrative or things don't make sense feel free to leave a review about it, believe me when I say it'll be covered in later chapters.**

 **I don't condone or promote that kinda use of the word—a faggot is actually a bundle of sticks; the derogatory definition came from a euphemism before society did what society does to words. Anyways, Natsu's disposition at the moment** _ **would**_ **use the word. On another note, I'm not pro-PC in the slightest, but I also don't like offending people.**

 **Right, well, it's a bit short right now, but that's kinda how most of my prologue chapters work.**

 **I think that's it.**

 **Have a good one.**


End file.
